


The Definition of 'Subtle'

by The1stHarbinger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1stHarbinger/pseuds/The1stHarbinger
Summary: Arthur and Merlin pretend to be on a date whilst surveilling Morgana on a night out with her new boyfriend. This leads to a more gratifying (if unexpected) result than either could have predicted.





	The Definition of 'Subtle'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tibeyg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibeyg/gifts).



> Written for Merlin Holidays 2017.
> 
> So many thanks go to my beta, Katie! And also, thank you to the mods for all your hard work.
> 
> This work has not been Brit-picked, as you will probably be able to tell, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

“Is this really such a good idea?”

Arthur sighed, put-upon. “Are we really going over this again? You  _know_ how Morgana is, especially with men. You said it yourself— we don’t want another Cenred.”

Merlin’s nose scrunched up distastefully. “You’re right. I’m just not sure it’s our place to… you know, decide what’s best for her.” At Arthur’s incredulous look, he added, “Or whatever.”

“It’s  _fine_ , Merlin,” Arthur said, the height of impatience. “We’ll just have a quick look at the bloke, make sure he’s not some lowlife or crackpot, and leave.”

Merlin acquiesced and followed Arthur as he pushed through the crowds impeding the pavement leading to the restaurant Morgana’s new beau had taken her to for the evening. Arthur had heard that it offered the finest French cuisine this side of London.

He didn’t understand why Merlin was making such a big deal of it when he was the one who’d had the idea in the first place. Arthur wasn’t planning on making a spectacle of himself. All he wanted was to make sure this new man (Leon?) wasn’t an arsehole. He was certain Morgana would do the very same for him if he’d had his heart torn out by a two-faced maggot like Cenred.

(Perhaps he was exaggerating, slightly—Morgana had hardly been heartbroken, and she’d ripped Cenred a new one herself—but the point still stood.)

Arthur held open the door to the restaurant for Merlin, and they both entered behind guests in exorbitant getups. He eyed Merlin’s T-shirt and creased trousers with trepidation.

The interior of the restaurant was even more sublime than the outside. An impressive bejeweled chandelier was suspended from the centre of the ceiling, and high glass windows lined the back wall with magnificent maroon drapes gilded with gold lacing framing them.

Once they reached the hostess, Arthur muttered, “Let me do the talking.” He then donned his most charming grin and said, louder this time, “Table for two, please.”

The hostess smiled perfunctorily. “Do you have a reservation?” she asked, her accent distinctly French-sounding.

He affected a frown. “I’m afraid not. These past few weeks have been busy, you understand, but I’ve heard great reviews of the place and we wanted to try it out. Surely you have room for two?”

The hostess’ smile hardened—likely she’d heard all this nonsense before—and she didn’t appear willing to comply… not even for a smile like Arthur knew his to be. “I’m sorry, but we only accept customers with reservations.”

Someone’s fingers grabbed his hand and pulled. “C’mon, Arthur, let’s go.”

But Arthur wasn’t one to give in so easily. An idea came to him then, and he snatched up Merlin’s hand tightly, lacing their fingers together. “Please, madame,” he implored. “It’s our first anniversary, and I’ve been saving for three months. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Merlin hissed in his ear, “What are you do— ow!”

“Sorry, darling, my foot slipped.” Arthur turned back to the hostess, who was eyeing them sceptically. He pulled his best puppy-dog gaze, but Merlin had always been better at that than him.

Finally, though, the lady relented and her smile lightened. “Follow me, please.”

She led them to a table in the back, so tiny that the chairs surrounding it nearly overlapped each other. But at least it was inconspicuous and had a clear overlook of the rest of the establishment.

Once the hostess had left and they’d settled with their menus, Merlin kicked him solidly in the shin. Arthur yelped, griping, “What the hell did you do that for?”

“You know why,” Merlin said. “What are you doing? This is completely ridiculous.”

“It isn’t ridiculous,  _Mer_ lin, it’s genius.”

“I didn’t agree to this.” Merlin glared at him over his menu, his blue eyes flashing brilliantly. It sent a tingle down Arthur’s spine, and he shivered.

It was a couple seconds before he could reply. “Would you please just play along? Look, Morgana’s here now.” Arthur discreetly nodded to the entrance where Morgana had just walked in with a tall, ginger-haired man trailing behind her. “I think that’s Leon.”

Merlin turned in his chair, not tactful in the least. “Looks like a nice enough bloke,” he said, turning back around. “Can we go now?”

“No, we cannot  _go now_. We’re seeing this through, Merlin, so you might as well stop arguing.”

“Pigs will fly the day I stop arguing with you,” Merlin muttered, but at least he began perusing the menu.

Arthur bit back a grin at the remark. He had met Merlin his first year of uni. After months of general alternating insults, they realised they worked well as best mates, and there had been no turning back. There were still insults, of course, but their lively banter was what made Arthur’s days working for his father bearable more often than not.

A waiter sidled up to their table then, and Merlin’s eyes took on a mischievous gleam. He proceeded to order the most expensive dish and wine on the menu. When he saw Arthur glaring at him, he only grinned.

Arthur read off his own order—beef stewed in red wine—and then said impassively, “You do realise you just ordered snail?”

Merlin’s grin fell right off his face. “What, seriously?”

“Yep.” Arthur had to take controlled breaths to keep himself from bursting out laughing. “And for what I’m going to pay for it, I expect you to eat every last scrap.”

Merlin’s eyes furrowed. “As if I ever do what you say. Aren’t you supposed to be watching Morgana?”

“I am,” Arthur said. He wasn’t, obviously, but he saw no reason to admit to that. He glanced around the restaurant and found Morgana and her date being seated at a table near the windows. Leon pulled out Morgana’s chair for her, smiling adoringly at her gratitude.

Arthur was disgusted by the sight.

Leon appeared to Arthur to be a perfect gentleman (so far, anyway), but that didn’t necessarily prove anything. He was just going to have to inspect him further, that was all.

When their meals finally arrived, Merlin scooted his chair closer to Arthur’s, adamant that he had never tasted snail in his life and wasn’t about to try it now. Arthur was forced to share his own dish with him, which he protested loudly about—even if he didn’t really mean it. He actually quite liked watching Merlin lick the residual red wine from his lips.

“Oh no,” Merlin said unexpectedly. “Morgana’s headed this way.”

“What?” Arthur lifted his head. Morgana was, in fact, sauntering away from her table and towards their own. He couldn’t tell whether or not she’d spotted them. “Why?”

“Maybe she needs the loo,” Merlin said hopefully, gesturing towards the entrance of the toilets right beside their table.

“Right.” Arthur hadn’t even noticed. “What do we do?”

“This is your stupid plan, Arthur,” Merlin said hotly. “You think of something.”

Arthur wanted to argue that this was actually all Merlin’s fault, because if he hadn’t brought it up, Arthur would have never thought to spy on Morgana in the first place. But, as it was, they simply didn’t have the time. “We can hide.”

Arthur had never seen Merlin look so unimpressed before. Well, actually, that was probably a lie.

“Behind  _what_ , exactly?”

Arthur’s nostrils flared as his irritation heightened. “I don’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas.”

Merlin’s frown grew more pronounced then, as if he were nervous or undecided. Arthur was briefly distracted by the way he gnawed at his bottom lip. “Well, actually…”

Arthur raised his eyes, hoping his intense gaze would convey his urgency. “We don’t have time for thi— ”

He was shocked and turned on in equal measures at what happened next. Arthur could honestly say Merlin’s lips on his own had not been a result that had occurred to him when he’d put this little idea into play. And yet it was probably the most gratifying outcome he could have possibly hoped for.

The kiss wasn’t at all innocent, and Arthur wasn’t sure why he had expected it to be (or why he’d ever thought about how Merlin would kiss). It was hot and fiery, passionate in every sense of the word, and he let himself fall prey to it. He felt Merlin’s hands in his hair, tugging at the strands, his tongue at the seam of his lips. Arthur gasped at the unanticipated pressure and found himself with a mouthful of Merlin’s tongue. He was almost startled into a moan when he felt said tongue lick his inner cheek, and, with what little control he had left, he grasped at Merlin’s hip, the bone digging into his palm. He found the back of Merlin’s chair with his other hand.

Merlin was intoxicating. He tasted like fine wine—sweet, bitter, and downright addicting.

An embarrassing whine emitted from deep in his throat when Merlin pulled back. He made to follow but was stopped by a hand to his chest. Arthur didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, Merlin was staring at him with wide eyes, his pupils dilated. A lovely flush graced his cheeks, and he appeared gorgeously disheveled.

“What…?”

Merlin’s flush became even more evident as he said, “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. I thought— ”

Arthur’s head was still fuzzy when he blurted, “This is  _Morgana_.”

Merlin stared for a moment, then sucked in a sharp breath and jerked back. Unfortunately, this action caused one of Merlin’s ever-flailing limbs to collide with his very expensive glass of wine, which then tipped over into his lap and landed with a clatter on the floor.

The string of colourful curses this evoked was impressive, even for Merlin. “ _Fuck_ ,” he stressed, picking up the glass and setting it back on the table before grabbing his napkin—rendered rather useless, drenched in wine as it was.

Arthur batted his hands away from his lap and snatched up his own napkin. “Here, let me.” He ignored Merlin’s protests and dabbed at his ruined trousers, trying (and failing) not to think about how close his hands were to Merlin’s crotch. Almost unwittingly, his fingers traveled even higher, audacious in their exploring.

Merlin abruptly scooted his chair back, shooting up to his feet. “I—I should really wash up.” Even his ridiculous ears were a bright crimson by the time he strode through the entrance of the men’s toilets, not waiting for Arthur’s reply.

Arthur stared bemusedly at where Merlin had disappeared, then started smoothing his hair back into its original style to the best of his ability. Arthur peered around the establishment and found, to his amazement, that no one seemed to be looking his way. It was a miracle they hadn't garnered more attention by that little display.

Arthur was surprised when his eyes lighted on Morgana back at her table with her date, her grin patently mad. She was gesturing widely and erratically with her hands, a gesture she had picked up God only knew where. Arthur had always thought it incredibly irritating—and dangerous. He always made sure to put at least a metre between them when she got like that, lest his eye get poked out by one of her terrifying nails.

Minutes passed. Arthur tried not to look awkward or uncomfortable when fellow patrons glanced his way, and he pushed out his chest when their waiter came by to collect their plates and present him with a list of desserts, all while side-eyeing him critically. At least, that’s what Arthur took that look to mean.

The waiter deliberately ignored the red stain on the white table cloth, leaving without a word.

Fed up, Arthur eventually gained his feet as well and wandered into the men’s room. Merlin was in front of the mirror when he opened the door, straightening his skewed T-shirt. He still looked ruffled and flushed, his lower lip an alluring pink, as if he’d been biting on it like he liked to do when he was nervous, excited, or arous—

And that was quite enough of that thought.

Arthur stared at him dubiously. “What on earth have you been  _doing_?”

Merlin resembled a deer caught in the headlights. “Erm… I was peeing.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve been peeing this whole time?”

Merlin shrugged sheepishly. “I really had to go.”

“There is definitely something very wrong with you,” Arthur drawled. He opened the door wider, an indication for Merlin to lead the way out. “Come on, let’s go. I want some pudding.”

He and Merlin unobtrusively retook their seats. When Arthur regarded the restaurant again, Morgana and her date were inexplicably vacant from their table, a waitress already gathering up their used dishes.

“Morgana’s gone.”

“What?” Merlin lifted his head, distracted from scanning the desserts. “Where’d she go?”

Arthur shook his head, brows furrowing. “Dunno.”

Merlin turned back to contemplating the menu, not meeting Arthur’s eyes as he asked, “Do you want to leave?”

Arthur thought about it a moment, then said, “Nah. I told you, I want some pudding.” His belly did a funny twist at the sweet little smile this elicited.

They requested crème caramel, something of which they could both enjoy, and practically devoured the custard dessert when it arrived. Merlin let out a satisfied sigh once they’d finished it off—scarfing it down in less than two minutes.

Arthur grew distracted by Merlin again, unsure what to say or do. Did he ignore what had happened? Should he say something about it, or would that make things awkward?

He felt like a teenager again, taking out a pretty girl for the first time. And Merlin wasn’t even that pretty.

“What?” Merlin asked when he caught Arthur staring. His eyes were shining, and his lips were quirked in amusement.

All right, so maybe he lied about Merlin not being pretty.

“Nothing,” he breathed. Then, taking a sip of wine for liquid courage, Arthur said, “You’ve… got something on your lip.” He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips to the corner of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin’s little gasp sent something aflutter inside him, and he boldly tongued up a drop of lingering caramel on Merlin’s bottom lip.

Arthur sat back with a rush of breath. “I think I’m full,” he blurted. “Wanna come back to my place for some… coffee? Or more wine? Or— ”

“Sex?”

Arthur almost bit his tongue at the series of coughs this induced. “Well, then,” he croaked, taking a gulp of wine to soothe his throat. “Could you possibly say that a bit louder, Merlin? I don’t think the kitchen hands heard you.”

Merlin looked doubtful. “Is that a no?”

Arthur peered at the tabletop, absentmindedly twisting the stem of his glass. He didn’t like how unsure of himself Merlin sounded, but as he was dithering himself, he couldn’t really reassure him. “... No,” he said finally. Hesitantly.

Merlin huffed. “Now you’re confusing me.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Arthur said. He hailed their waiter and asked for the bill.

Once they—read Arthur—had paid and left the restaurant, Arthur grasped Merlin’s hand and linked their fingers together whilst he attempted to flag down a cabbie.

Merlin gazed at their hands wonderingly. “Arthur, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get us a cab,” Arthur said, deliberately misinterpreting the question. Then, more brazenly, “We are going to go have sex.”

He grinned at Merlin’s confusedly delighted expression, finally catching them a cab.

~~~

Morgana burst through the door into Arthur’s office during his lunch break on Monday, high heels clacking ominously. Merlin nearly fell to the floor in his haste to get up from his perch on Arthur’s lap, wide-eyed with surprise and gorgeously rumpled.

Arthur only smirked, leaning back in his chair confidently. “Morgana,” he deadpanned. “So nice to see you. Please, do come in.”

“You,” she said, pointing at Arthur with one of her ghastly nails and completely ignoring Merlin, “are an idiot.”

“So you keep saying.”

Morgana fully entered the room, letting the door fall closed behind her, and dropped unceremoniously into a chair in front of Arthur’s desk. Her grin was absolutely insufferable. “I saw you two pillocks at the restaurant last night.”

Arthur linked his fingers over his stomach and tilted his head back. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Morgana raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “So that wasn’t you with Merlin’s tongue down your throat, then?”

“I told you that didn’t work,” Arthur muttered to Merlin.

“Shut up, Arthur, it was a good idea.” Merlin settled himself on the corner of Arthur’s desk, giving Arthur a clear view of his pert little backside.

“Morons, the both of you,” Morgana said, her tone conveying how clearly tragic she thought this was. “You were so obvious,  _I’m_  ashamed for you.”

“What?” Arthur said objectionably, lifting his head. “We were subtle.”

“Darling, you wouldn’t know ‘subtle’ if it bit you in the arse.”

“We were just trying to look out for you, Morgana,” Merlin cut in. He appeared so earnest about it, too. Arthur always thought he was too innocuous for his own good, but he couldn’t help loving him all the more for it. “We only want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” Morgana asked disbelievingly. “How could you possibly know what’s best for me, when you don’t even know what’s best for yourselves?”

At this, Arthur was nonplussed and Merlin, abashed. “What?”

“Have you two got together, yet?” Morgana asked.

Arthur’s eyes widened in bewilderment. How…? And what did that have to do with anything, anyway?

“Yes, actually,” Merlin admitted.

Arthur stared at him incredulously but didn’t deny it. When Merlin only shrugged, Arthur turned back to Morgana. “What’s your point?”

Morgana seemed momentarily lost for words at this turn of events, but then she smiled. Arthur was dismayed by her genuine excitement. “You’ve been in love with each other for years, Arthur. We’ve all been waiting for you to get your acts together.”

“We have not been in love with each other for years!” Arthur scoffed, ignoring the second half of her statement. The thought was barbaric. They were much too big of idiots back then to know what love even was.

“Speak for yourself.” Merlin’s tone was overly casual as he looked down into his lap, kneading his fingers. Arthur recognised the gesture as one of his nervous ticks.

All right, so maybe Arthur was too big of an idiot, then. “Really?”

Morgana laughed. “Don’t be too hard on him, Merlin, he’s always been oblivious to matters of the heart.”

“He’s oblivious to most things.” Merlin glanced up, his eyes glinting with mirth and perhaps a tad of relief.

Arthur reined in his elation, and sputtered. “Oi, whose side are you on?”

Merlin smirked wickedly and winked.

Morgana looked speculative at their interactions, her eyes gleaming curiously. Arthur knew to be wary of that expression. But Morgana didn’t say anything of it, only stood from her chair and said, “We should go out sometime; I’ll bring Leon so you can meet him properly. Maybe this time we can actually eat  _together_.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Arthur said, but he was pleased by her easy acceptance.

Morgana’s countenance turned savage. “I have to go now— Things to do, places to go, people to sack; you get the picture. But I’ll be seeing you later.”

With that, Morgana was out the door again like she’d never been there in the first place. When the door shut behind her, Merlin stood up and shuddered dramatically. “That woman terrifies me.”

Arthur scowled, unsympathetic. “At least  _you_  didn’t have to live with her for fifteen years.”

Merlin rounded the desk and snaked his arms around Arthur’s neck, bending down so his chest connected with the back of the chair. “Aw, you poor thing,” he breathed against Arthur’s ear, his commiseration feigned.

Arthur’s heart raced. “C’mere, you idiot.” He drew Merlin back into his lap and wrapped his arms around his narrow waist, kissing him lovingly and thoroughly.

When they pulled back, Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “You know,” he began, “I think Elena’s found someone new. Bloke called Gwaine.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur said, cottoning on almost immediately. “Guy sounds like a wanker.”

Merlin hummed in agreement. “I know, right? Think we should check him out?”

“Absolutely.” Arthur trailed kisses over Merlin’s cheek and nibbled at his ear. “Especially after that fiasco with what’s-his-name.”

“Definitely.” Merlin nuzzled into Arthur’s ministrations, keening sweetly. “And I hear the guy’s a  _sommelier_. Whatever the hell that is.”

Arthur leaned back and said, “A sommelier is a sort of wine steward—answers clients’ questions about a business’ collection, makes recommendations, yada, yada, yada. My father actually— ” He stammered to a halt at Merlin’s blank look. “Right, the man clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“So, umm…”

“The date’s on Thursday.”

“I’ll pick you up round 6:30 then, shall I?”

“Works for me.” Merlin slithered off his lap, allowing Arthur one last kiss. Then he left the office, his hips swaying enticingly as he went.

Arthur grinned, eagerly awaiting Thursday. Or, more precisely, Thursday night. He was brought back to the night before, remembering how Merlin had fucked him into the mattress.

But then he shook his head, forced down his tempting arousal, and got back to work. It was going to be a long few days.


End file.
